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Chapter 28 — The Howl in the Shadows
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2025-10-04 17:25:59The city at night was quieter than usual—or maybe I was just listening differently, every sense sharpened. After separating from Sammi and Jay, the emptiness of the streets pressed in, every shadow twisting into potential threats. Footsteps echoed behind me—mine, deliberate, precise—and the distant hum of traffic carried faintly on the wind.
Then I heard it: a low, guttural growl, distant but unmistakable. My chest tightened. Hunters weren’t my only concern anymore. Something else prowled the streets, something wild and dangerous. The scent hit me next: sharp, musky, like rain-soaked fur mixed with iron.
Werewolves.
I froze, instincts flaring. These weren’t humans, and they weren’t predictable. Territorial, powerful, coordinated—this pack would kill on instinct alone if I made the slightest mistake.
I melted into the shadows, pressing against a crumbling brick wall, knife ready. Four figures emerged ahead, moving
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He’d been running for three days before they found him.Rain, alley grit, the taste of iron in his mouth; that was the rhythm of his life then. He’d left the pack behind in British Columbia after the last hunt went bad—two hunters dead, one wolf torn open, everyone blaming everyone else. Matrix had learned early that loyalty only worked if the others were still breathing.So when the black van cut across the street and boxed him in, he didn’t fight. He waited, crouched low, muscles coiled. The doors opened and the smell of silver hit him like frostbite.“Matrix,” a voice said. “You’re hard to track.”The man who stepped out wore hunter black but not the usual mercenary scowl. He looked like
Shadows and First Blood Chapter 47 — The Lock and the Lie
Morning bled through the blinds in thin, watery lines.For a second, I forgot where I was. The ceiling wasn’t cracked in the same places as mine, the air didn’t smell of dust and coffee. It smelled of him—cedar, iron, rain.Matrix’s side of the bed was already empty. A half-folded shirt lay on the chair, his boots lined up like soldiers at parade rest. Everything in this apartment obeyed him; even the silence seemed disciplined.I slipped from the sheets, hunting for my jeans. If I moved quickly, maybe I could catch the bus to O’Rourke & Finch before he noticed.Normalcy—that was the plan. Go to work, restock the shelves, breathe in old paper until the world made sense again.The door handle didn’t tu
Shadows and First Blood Chapter 46 — The Cage in His Voice
I woke to stillness.No hum of traffic, no thin whistle through cracked windows. Just the scent of cedar and the weight of a room that wasn’t mine.The sheet smelled like him. I hated how comforting that was.Matrix was already up, standing by the window with the curtain pulled half open. Morning light traced the planes of his shoulders, every inch of him a warning carved into calm.“Morning,” I said.He turned, slow, deliberate, like a predator deciding whether to hunt. “You’re home.”I blinked. “I’m… what?”“Here,” he said, as if it were the simplest truth in the world. “You live
Shadows and First Blood Chapter 45 — Bound and Bright
The rope tightened with a hiss of leather, the sound loud in the hush of his den.My wrists were already above my head, palms flat against the wall, my body stretched to the edge of balance.Matrix’s breath ghosted over my ear. “Breathe.”I did. The air smelled of him: smoke and cedar and rain waiting to fall.He drew back just enough to look at me. The wolf was closer to the surface now — eyes gone deep, pupils blown, a flick of fang when his mouth curled. The calm man from the diner was gone. In his place stood the thing that had survived alleys and hunters and come to claim me.“You asked for stars,” he said softly. “Let’s see if you can take them.”
Shadows and First Blood Chapter 44 — Teeth Behind the Smile
The next time he asked, I didn’t say no.We’d gone through the motions—his quiet visits, the shelves holding still in his presence, my stubborn refusals softening by degree. But after Travis faded, after the shop whispered me into silence, saying yes felt less like surrender and more like admitting the truth I’d been circling for months: I wanted the noise.He showed up at closing, as if he already knew the answer I hadn’t given yet.“Dinner?” Matrix asked, leaning in the doorway. Not pushy. Not hesitant. Just certain.My body betrayed me before my mouth caught up. “Fine,” I muttered. “One dinner.”The restaurant was small, tucked into a side street that smelled of basil
Shadows and First Blood Chapter 43 — The Shape of Letting Go
The yes slipped out of me like a tired breath.Not dramatic. Not fireworks. Just the quiet answer a body gives when the ache of saying no has worn it raw.“Coffee,” I said at the counter, pretending it wasn’t a surrender. “One hour.”Matrix’s smile didn’t gloat. It warmed, low and steady, like a hand around a mug in winter. “One hour,” he agreed, as if he’d already built a life inside the space of those words.We chose the diner two blocks down—the one with cracked red vinyl and a neon sign that blinked OPEN like it was trying to convince itself. The bell over that door was brighter than the shop’s, shriller, and the air smelled like burnt sugar and the memory of bacon. He took the booth facing the door, which I
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